


Missteps in Coronan Justice

by astrivikia



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Andrew | Hubert being nice (Disney: Tangled), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bonding, Developing Friendships, Saporian Language, Trust Issues, Varian is a feral kitten and Andrew is gonna coax him out of his shell, referenced injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28278063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrivikia/pseuds/astrivikia
Summary: A glimpse into the progression of Varian and Andrew's friendship in prison.
Relationships: Andrew | Hubert & Varian (Disney: Tangled)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	Missteps in Coronan Justice

**Author's Note:**

> I started this in July, at long last I can share it!

Information filtered through the prison slowly. Bit by bit, a mix of fact, rumor and speculation.

Some of it was useful, some of it just eased the suffocating boredom of captivity. From what Andrew had been hearing, a kid had joined the ranks of the dungeons. That was an uncommon occurrence. Since the princess had returned young criminals were generally granted a bit more leniency. And they certainly weren't thrown in the deeper sections meant for people who had committed extreme crimes. The cells where little daylight filtered down through the grating, instead leaving them only with torchlight.

So forgive him if he was taking what he'd heard with a grain of salt. Especially since what he was hearing was high treason and attempted murder. It seemed a bit far fetched. Inmates liked to exaggerate the truth; anything to add a little interest to the monotony.

It became a bit easier to believe when the guards came to his cell with a scrawny kid in tow. This was weeks after the initial rumors had begun to spread, which told a story in and of itself. It didn't seem like that time had been kind.

The kid was drawn defensively inward, messy black hair falling in his eyes. He lingered anxiously next to the guards for a long moment, prompting them to push him gently between the shoulders into the cell.

He flinched at the clang the door made as it was closed behind him.

“ _Well damn,”_ Andrew muttered under his breath in Saporian. It looked like the rumors were true. Though whether they were correct about the kid's criminal history was yet to be seen.

The sound of his voice finally got the boy to raise his gaze, a questioning furrow forming between his brows. He shifted in place, silent for a long moment before he asked softly, “What language was that?” His blue eyes still spoke of wariness, but a spark of curiosity was alive in their depths now too.

“It's Saporian _k_ _iþá_ _._ ” Andrew offered him a small smile, taking in the way he took in the one clearly foreign word.

His eyebrows had risen slightly, gaze tracking over him like he was trying to take in every visual cue he was given. “Oh.” A beat of silence. “I didn't... realize people still... spoke Saporian.”

Andrew shrugged, trying not to show how aware he was of the boy's caution. “Not a lot of people do anymore.”

Their conversation continued in this stilted manner for a bit, during which the boy crept to the opposite bunk, perching himself there. Andrew tried not to draw attention to the tension in the air.

It wasn't hard to tell the kid was scared; he could read it in his body language. As the days began to tick by there were more and more little things that made themselves apparent.

If a loud noise rang through their cell block the boy would flinch bodily, and the trembling lingered for a while if something caught him off guard.

Andrew's new cellmate kept mostly to himself unless prompted, often curling up on his bunk in a way that appeared to be about making himself as small as possible. Like the smaller he was, the less he would be noticed. He didn't know if it was a defense mechanism or a self loathing thing. Maybe it was both.

Early on he'd caught glimpses of fading bruises on the kid. He tried not to dwell on it. It was wiser not to bring it up. Probably would spook the kid and do more harm than good. It wasn't like he could change what had happened anyway. It left a bad feeling none the less.

The kid's name was Varian, but that was about all the personal information he'd been able to coax out of him so far. That was okay. He didn't talk about the crimes that had landed him in here, and Andrew decided he could wait to hear his version of the story. It wasn't like they were short on time.

* * *

Varian had nightmares. It wasn't uncommon to wake up and find the kid crying, hand clamped over his mouth to try and quiet the sounds. As if he'd be punished for them in the past when he'd been heard. Andrew had a feeling it was a learned behavior. One learned in prison.

The kid was in a very bad headspace. It had been a little over a week they'd been sharing a cell now, and along with the fear and caution he'd been exhibiting, there were also self destructive behaviors.

Across the cell Varian swayed dangerously on the spot. The bitter expression he'd been wearing faded, leaving a look of apathy in it's wake. He placed a hand against the stone wall, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a steadying breath.

Andrew watched him out of the corner of his eye, resisting the urge to sigh in exasperation. “You good over there?”

“Fine,” Varian gritted out, pushing away from the wall to slump down onto his bunk. They both knew he was lying. Just because their conversation hadn't revealed much about him didn't mean he hadn't been observing.

“If you say so.” The kid had barely been touching the food they were brought. He moved it around the sad excuses for plates, but in the end the amount that was taken away later was scarcely less than what came into the cell.

Varian had drawn himself into a defensive ball again, dark hair falling in his face. Andrew had left him alone up this point, trying to let him adjust. But it seemed to be doing little to put him at ease. There was only so much gentle handling he could justify before he had to put his foot down for the kid's own good. _Toq_ _á_ _gru æþ lex..._

“So tell me.” Andrew kept his tone casual as he leveled his gaze intently at Varian. “Are you trying to starve?”

A small flinch, blue eyes rising to glare at him. “I don't need your- your...” A frustrated growl escaped the kid. “I- you know what I'm trying to say.”

Andrew smirked slightly, raising a placating hand. “Touchy.” If the kid was getting comfortable enough to snap at him that was probably a good sign. Better than reserved terror anyway.

“It's none of your business,” he muttered, arms tightening around his knees.

* * *

The first time Andrew actually touched Varian he jerked back like he'd been burned, a raw kind of panic written across his face. His slight frame was coiled with tension, drawn protectively inward. It was a knee-jerk response done purely on reflex. One Andrew had to assume he'd learned in prison.

The kid's breathes came hitched and shaky, even as he seemed to process what he'd done.

Andrew drew his hand back, holding it open as he took a step back to give him space.

“Hey, it's okay,” he intoned softly.

Varian covered his mouth with a hand, starting to mumble out a shaky string of apologies. His gaze flitted anywhere except Andrew's face.

Andrew focused on maintaining a neutral expression, even as the implications of such a reaction made his insides burn with anger. _Ito viþaq'l hado kogreþoq ta leþ sál._

He lowered himself to a crouch, tilting his head to try and meet Varian's downcast gaze.

“You don't have to apologize buddy.”

Varian continued to tremble as he warily met Andrew's gaze. He'd fallen silent, save for his still shuddery breathes.

“I'm not mad; I get it. It can be scary in here, especially for someone as small as you. Shit happens. But I'm not going to hurt you okay?”

Varian stared at him for a long moment, searching his expression for some hint of a lie, a trap. Then he nodded, some tears slipping down his cheeks. His voice was weak as he replied. “Okay.”

Andrew offered him a sad smile.

* * *

The kid started talking to him a bit more after that. He was still reserved, his desire for connection seeming to war with his desire to maintain a safe layer of distance between them.

It settled into a pattern where Andrew led the conversations, while Varian asked questions when something caught his interest. He rarely brought up anything about himself, and seemed outright startled the first time he related something back to himself. But at least Andrew didn't have to talk him down from a panic spiral that time.

Slowly, he was becoming less of a shell. The kid actually did have a personality in there, complete with unique ticks and quirks. Like the way he'd mess with the cuffs of his sleeves. Or reach up toward his hair like he intended to mess with it, only to drop his hand again with a small frown.

Andrew found himself talking about himself more as a way to keep the tentative thread of conversation going. In one of their conversations Andrew casually dropped a Saporian idiom in without a second thought as he talked about his grievances with Corona.

“ _Siþra'l væ kal faþax máskrut.”_ The phrase was emphasized by a soft exhale and a roll of his eyes.

Varian regarded him with curiosity, teeth worrying at his lip before he ventured. “What's that mean? It sounded... bitter.” He grinned a bit sheepishly, adding hastily. “I mean, the whole topic is so I figured...”

Andrew chuckled. “Well you'd be right. It means you either act properly Coronan, or the system is against you.”

Varian eyed him with a hint of skepticism. “That sounds like a lot more words than what you said.”

“It's not a direct translation.” Andrew shrugged.

Varian hummed softly at that. “So uh...” A beat of hesitation. “I haven't-” Andrew stayed quiet, letting the kid try and properly formulate his thoughts. “It's not.... common to find anything... on Saporian. I mean-” His blue eyes were doing that anxious flitting again. “Could you teach me?”

The kid was watching him with a guarded hopefulness.

“I don't see why not.” Andrew was rewarded with the brightest expression he'd ever seen on Varian's face.

* * *

Saporian lessons became a regular part of their daily routine after that. Andrew didn't exactly know the ins and outs of teaching someone a language. He'd never been in this position before.

People usually weren't interested in learning something with such a negative stigma.

So he'd started with the sounds that were different in the language. The softer accented ah, which was more of an exhalation. The way the rs rolled slightly.

"So, if you said my name with a Saporian pronunciation," the boy had been quick to ask. "What would it sound like?"

Andrew cocked his head at him with an amused lilt to his lips. _"Vah-ree-an."_

_"Vah-ree-an?"_ He echoed back, the a too harsh, and the roll on the r clumsy on his tongue.

"It's an adjustment. _Ta sábun mil viþraq Variáþ."_ His brows furrowed.

"That there, it was my name, but it wasn't."

"That's cause it's a diminutive." He grinned in amusement at the way the boy seemed to fluctuate between surprise and indignation at that.

"Oh." He ducked his head so his bangs fell over his eyes, fidgeting with his sleeve.

* * *

The boy was a quick learner, even if his inflection was clumsy or off at times. There was a determined little furrow that would settle between his brows when he listened to the way Andrew said the words.

He was trying to talk to him more in Saporian when he could. Which led to some... rather clunky word choices, due to his lack of vocabulary and weak grasp on typical Saporian sentence structure.

Not to mention tenses, which were always a tricky hurdle in any language.

They eventually reached a point where Varian started asking him about different words. Which was how he learned about the boy's alchemy.

"What do you mean steel and iron are the same word?" His tone was scandalized.

"Well, you can technically denote if you mean steel with a diminutive. It's cause it's derived from iron that they're the same."

"But they have different uses!" Varian insisted.

"I'm sure they do," he snorted. "But language evolves over time, and it doesn't always do it in the way that makes the most sense."

Varian rolled his eyes at that. "I guess you're right. It's still stupid though."

* * *

The first time Varian touched Andrew it was a light and fluttering thing. The kid liked to gesture when he talked, and one of the few topics he was starting to open up about was his alchemy. His hand reached out to touch his upper arm excitedly as he told him about one of his many inventions.

His eyes were bright, motions animated, something Andrew had only seen from him when he talked about this kind of stuff. It was something that made the kid look alive.

This was his drive, his passion. When he talked about alchemy he wasn't a scared, broken shell of a person anymore. It was a glimpse of what the boy had probably been like before the world had worn him down to the person Andrew had first met.

If he was honest, Andrew didn't really understand half of what he was talking about, but he nodded along anyway, an amused tilt to his lips.

He didn't have to understand to know that this kind of stuff was impressive. This was what had let the kid cause enough damage to get thrown in prison in the first place.

**Author's Note:**

> Saporian translations:
> 
> Kiþá – child/kid  
> Toqágru æþ lex - Broken is hope. (Kinda sighing over a lost cause or someone / something very far gone.)  
> Ito viþaq'l hado kogreþoq ta leþ sál. - The fire of life burned you too soon. (It basically means your childhood was stolen. Something far too traumatic happened to you too young.)  
> Siþra'l væ kal faþax máskrut - Their sun allows no hues/colors.  
> Ta sábun mil viþraq Variáþ - You will get there Varian(diminutive nickname version.)


End file.
